How tragic is it?
We all yearn for the same thing
Love.
Yet we fail to offer it.
Not to others. Not even to ourselves.
We’re all hurting for the same reason.
Our desires are identical.
But we choose to endure the pain
and let those around us suffer as well.
We hold back love,
then lament that we never receive it.
How tragic.
Everyone defines love differently.
But at its essence
we all crave the same thing.
Yet we’re molded to believe in varying forms of it.
And now,
we neither know how to give it
nor how to accept it.
How tragic.
We fail to find love
in our own homes,
in our own circles.
So we search for it
in strangers,
in fleeting encounters,
in harmful places.
How tragic.
We live in a breathtaking world,
yet we seek beauty
in someone’s thoughts,
in a verse of poetry,
in the pages of a book.
We discover love
only in ink and paper,
and the more we uncover it there,
the more it pains us.
Every day.
With every passing moment.
How tragic.
We lack the one thing
we need most
the very thing
that defines
our humanity.
